The White Death
by A.R.H. Writer
Summary: The loss of Jedha was tough on everyone. Even those Imperials who had called it their home. But what if some saw this as the time to defect...


_Had an idea: What if one of the super loyal Death Troopers lived oh Jakku? how would he deal with it?_

 _Enjoy: -Cloaked Writer_

* * *

 _ **~ 4ABY, Surface of an Unnamed Imperial Garrison World ~**_

The Base was situated at the foot of the dormant volcano on the volcanic moon, the imperial banner flying defiantly amidst the rubble and debris from the Y-Wing bombing runs on the base.

No life could be seen amongst the scorched durasteel frame of the landing bay, or in the charred remnants of turbolaser implements.

Yet there was a tension in the air, and Captain Velio' felt it. He rubbed his eyes, then wiped the lenses of his binoculars clean of ash in order to better assess the situation.

The Imperials had weathered their attacks for nearly a month. Their heavy weapons were gone: stripped of ammunition and Tabana, and the only signs of movement were the carrion life forms that glided drown from the great stone spire nests that they called home.

"Any sign of them, sir?" A voice asked from behind.

"If there were, I'd be shootin' them, private."

He looked away from the base and towards the human soldier, both their faces caked in ash and dust.

"You worked here as a tech. You're sure there is no other way out of there?"

"Positive, sir. The commander of the base always maintained that it was a serious issue of defense, but the higher-ups always dismissed it."

"Maybe they are hoping to wait us out… or are simply starving to death."

The Captain pondered for a moment, then pointed to the soldier.

"We are moving out, tell the men to get ready for combat."

The group of four hundred had been halved since the siege began. The remaining two hundred soldiers slipped between the dormant fissures and cracks in the rocks, as they split into three groups: two to slip in on either side of the hanger bay, the other group to go in loud should reinforcements be required.

No laser blasts echoed. No stormtrooper comm signals.

Nothing.

It was silent.

Too silent.

"Spread out, signal the last squad to move in. We need to clear this place of whatever they have left before the Empire realizes-"

The loud, blaring whine of an alarm sounded overhead, as the door to the hanger bay began to close like the great jaw of a monster, sealing them in and blocking access from the reinforcements.

[Attention Rebels. Surrender your blasters and come quietly, and you will earn a quick death at the hands of the Empire.]

Small doors began to open into the large hanger, as white-armored stormtroopers and officers began to pour out, blasters set to kill.

"Find cover!" The Captain bellowed, launching himself behind a crate as the air began to fill with red blaster bolts.

At least fifty men were out there, shooting loudly and moving in near perfect synchronization, indicating that the comm jam had failed.

He switched on his own commlink stick, only to hear a loud whine of feedback before shutting it off.

Damn it.

They had suckered them in perfectly. Teach them to take the word of a former imperial droid scrubber for the gospel. They must have had deeper pockets then the High Command had ever anticipated, or wanted to think that this pathetic imperial base had nothing left but half dead troopers in half-destroyed armor.

He whirled around and fired over his cover, knocking a Stormtrooper over, but not killing him; his cry and flail for cover was proof enough for that.

Blast.

He tried his helmet comm, and was thankfully surprised to find the channel open-

"Attention Reb- New Republic, Commander. I'll be blunt in order to save time. I am an imperial defector and I am here to help. I cleaned out the command center and have control of the security systems; where do you want me to clean these men out?"

Captain Velio blinked, before pressing the button on the side of his helmet to extend his microphone and to open the channel.

"Come again?"

The Imperial sighed.

"I have their backs to me, and they are dug in deep. You are going to need me to use the Command Center's security guns in order to-"

"Why should I trust you-" The Captain tried to say, before a loud static filled his com, and the air around him seemed to constrict slightly before all returned to normal.

"*That*, is why you should trust me. That trooper was about to kill you."

The Captain turned back to peer over his cover, only to see the charred body of an Imperial Stormtrooper leaning over it, his hands limp and the scent of charred flesh, burned plastic, and blood filling the air.

A fair portion of the stormtrooper's seemed shocked at the move as well, as some had their hands raised to their comlinks in order to assess the situation.

Blast it.

"Take out as many as you can, defector. After these Imps are gone, you will surrender your blaster and come quietly to await trial for your actions with a specific note of your cooperation made, with a pardon on the way if things go well." He said quickly, readying his blaster to begin firing at the stormtroopers once again.

"And see if you can get that damn door open while you are at it!"

The imperial line was focused in a concave arch, bulging outward towards the disorganized and flat-footed rebel force. Hanging like a crimson eye, lording over the white armored Stormtroopers and the penned in Rebels, was the command center and it's two defensive laser batteries: little more than a low-level blaster cannon, but enough to seriously damage their lines.

At once, the guns roared to life, red lasers searing into the Troopers and engulfing their cover in flames. The troopers, caught between two enemies, broke. Half of their number continued firing into the Rebels, while the rest fired salvo after salvo of blaster fire into the Command Center, the blaster fire wild and inaccurate as it illuminated the room in red.

And with that light, Captain Velio could see the lone figure operating the controls, ducking occasionally as a lucky shot passed over his head.

Then with a great groan, the hanger doors opened, and the reinforcements arrived.

With that, the Stormtroopers were beaten. Sorely, beaten.

These were, admittedly and to their credit, far more loyal than other holdout groups, and laster far longer with fewer casualties. Yet, only four stormtroopers and their Lieutenant remained to be taken prisoner.

Them, and the defector.

A squad of five men flanked the Captain on his march in the winding staircases and the obscure hallways to the Command Center. Stopping outside the door, and gritting his teeth, he hailed the defector on the open comm.

"Your Blaster is to be set to stun, and on the floor at your feet. Your hands will be above your head." He said blandly, motioning for his troops to open the door as he pulled his blaster from it's holster.

"Acknowledged." the voice said, and through the door, he heard the slightest clatter of a blaster being dropped.

With a sputtering of sparks from the hot wire, the door opened.

The Command Center was a mess; dead officers and one stormtrooper lay slumped over computer terminals and in knocked over seats. Several monitors were trashed from blaster fire from the Stormtrooper Blaster fire, while glass carpeted the floor and ensured that stealth would be impossible if this defector was actually some sort of deep-cover Imp trying to catch them flat-footed.

He was a Stormtrooper, if the outline was to be believed. However, there was something… off, about him.

To start, was his height.

He was a _giant_ , far taller than any normal imperial trooper. Furthermore, at a closer look at the armor, it did not possess any accented pauldrons, something normally very common amongst stormtroopers.

His helmet lay at his feet, next to his blaster.

No, _blasters_.

A SE-14r light repeating blaster, common amongst those officers who had the coin and ability to buy and use one of them instead of the traditional sidearm of the imperial navy.

And…

An E-11D.

An E-11 _D_?

But, those were only used by...

The lights flickered on - activated by one of his soldiers - to stare the unhelmeted Death Trooper in the face.

His skin was a deep brown, indicating a previous life in the sun, or a heritage that had lived in the sun for many years. His armor and dress indicated that he was simply a member of the Death Trooper Corps. And not a Commander.

The Commander lay dead on the floor - the Stormtrooper body that had been mistakenly identified - with a blaster bolt wound to the back.

"Cuff him." The Captain said, trying to hide the bewilderment on his face.

"We'll interrogate him once we get off this rock and report to High Command."

* * *

"I was stationed here, with my comrade as protection to the Major." The Death Trooper - Jurri, his name was - said as they lifted off and began to calculate the jump necessary for the hyperspace travel to the Rebel Fleet.

"He had friends in high places and managed to pull enough strings to get us down to protect him. From what, I don't know. Nothing in their computers said anything was a threat other than the occasional smuggler or pirate ship in the vicinity."

He raised his head, looking the Captain straight in the eye from his chair with a previously dormant fire flaring up in his words.

"I _had_ to do it. I lived on Jedha. I grew up in Jedha city! When I heard what the Empire did…"

He lowered his gaze, the heat in his words dying.

"I knew I was to defect. For all that the Empire is, for all the good it _can_ do… This is not the Empire I joined. This is not the Empire I wish to serve. If your New Republic can aid it's people the way the Empire _did_ , then my services are yours."

He sighed, leaning back in his chair.

"But, I am sure that as a member of Imperial Intelligence, I will have to forfeit my life." He said casually.

The Captain was stunned.

Normally, the Imperial defectors that were encountered were lower level midshipmen or Lieutenants, senior lieutenants - or senior officers at the most - who had encountered classified orders or details pertaining to something that violated their moral compass, leading them to renounce the Empire and aid the Alliance to Restore the Republic. The only Stormtroopers that were encountered were those in individual squads or task forces that were ordered to purge worlds of their inhabitants for a handful of insurgents and fled to the Alliance in order to fight for something else.

Never had an ISB member, much less one of the increasingly rare Death Troopers surrendered to them.

And it was equally surprising, and sad, to think that his reward for doing the right thing would be death.

"I am sure we can… Find a way to pardon you, Jurri. Standard orders since Hoth have been to capture, interrogate, try, and punish high ranking officers. However, since you defected and gave us aid when we most needed it, tilting an Imperial ambush that would have cost the entire company… I will put in a good name for you."

He sat up, surprised.

"Thank you, Captain." He said seriously.

"I will not soon forget it."

* * *

In the years that followed, a name was whispered throughout the Stormtrooper Corps. A name that struck fear into the new boots and led to brave chuckles from the veterans, but all men knew to beware.

Jurri.

The White Death.

A Death Trooper who - according to the rumors no doubt accelerated by the Rebellion's spies - nearly single-handedly wiped out an entire task force on a remote Imperial Garrison world and, according to the overheard whispers of a midshipmen to one of the _ISD Hammer_ 's many Technicians, had used it's turbolaser battery to drive off an Imperial Light Cruiser before turning himself in to the Rebels and pledging his life to their cause.

Before painting his armor, his body glove, and his weapons a pearly white, so you could see the blood of the Stormtroopers he had slain.

That was the tale that coursed through the minds of the Imperial Stormtroopers of Jakku, when a stolen and atrociously painted TIE Defender Fighter skidded into their lines, and a white figure stood from the wreckage and began to open fire.


End file.
